


{These Mangled Pieces of Flesh That Are Yours (and mine)}.

by PassionsPromise



Series: {This Little Frame That Holds Me Is Worth So Much More In Your Hands}. [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 15:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7366921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PassionsPromise/pseuds/PassionsPromise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Scotty looks up from the broken wires in his goddamn shaking hands, to the pair of baby-blues smeared with blood and bruises, and the numb horror of what the Captain is suggesting thrills under his white-cold veins-"</p>
            </blockquote>





	{These Mangled Pieces of Flesh That Are Yours (and mine)}.

**Author's Note:**

> Kirk Enterprises: Michael Giacchino.
> 
>  

“Ya’ cannae be serious, Sir-”

“It’s not like we have a choice, Scotty.”

“But, Sir- wha’ abou’-“

“Ack, details; when have they ever stopped you- you can do this. I know you can.”

Scotty looks up from the broken wires in his goddamn shaking hands, to the pair of baby-blues smeared with blood and bruises, and the numb horror of what the Captain is suggesting thrills under his white-cold veins. The Captain grins wickedly underneath the sheen of sweat and, as he pulls his body tighter into the mangled mess of pulled cables and wires behind him, Scotty follows the Captain’s shoulder-line to his arm, to the the limb viciously bent and tangled into the wiring and cords, to the golden shirt that is ripped to reveal vivid purples and blues and a whole rainbow of sickening colours underneath.

The Captain cannot move until Scotty has re-routed some of the power- power that belongs to the control chamber that lies underneath the Captain’s body- power that could electrocute or kill them both if Scotty’s not careful.

Has the Captain effectively told him that he's alright with death, with dying, here?

Scotty curses. _No_. It wasn’t supposed to fucking _be like this._

The mission was supposed to be bloody _routine_ \- the Captain had bloody said so; go out and take a look at something that Spock had called an ‘irregularity’ on a planet that had no name because it hadn’t been discovered or something-

But, where the Captain was concerned, these ‘routine’ missions never boded bloody well.

The shuttle had suddenly malfunctioned; no reason as to why, and even if there was, Scotty wasn’t sure if he could fix it; in a phrase, it was goddamn out of his hands. In the milliseconds afterward, the Captain had grabbed him before they fell out of their seats and plummeted down fifteen feet to the back of the shuttle; the control chamber had come undone in the process, and to keep him from hitting the live wires, the Captain had shoved Scotty out of the way and had fallen into them, tangling his arm right into the goddamn mess, causing the entire shuttle to lose power altogether.

The comms are gone. There is no way to beam them back to the Enterprise- they’re way off-orbit-

_Shit-_

“Scotty-“

Scotty’s stomach drops when he hears his Captain’s voice; he remembers the Captain’s death in that radiation chamber; he _remembers_ the fear, the bone-wrenching feeling of being _so fucking helpless_ -

 _Helpless_. He’s literally sitting there with the fucking mangled _wires_ in his hands and he can’t do _a thing_ -

“It’s fine,” the Captain grinds out between clenched teeth. “Just do what you have to, Scotty. It’ll all be fine, so stop worrying-“

“Sir, please- we _need_ to get you outta there first- I cannae do anythin’ wi-hout—“

The alarms are going off now, red, glaring and loud, and Scotty can hear the high-pitched dismissal of both their looming deaths, the announcement of their entrance into thermosphere, into an orbit that Scotty doesn’t know the name of, and they are free-falling, and Scotty can feel his body lift as the shuttle tumbles, powerless, and—

“That is an order, Scotty,” the Captain growls, his eyes suddenly vicious with authority. Of course, Scotty knows better than to believe in the anger of the Captain’s voice. “You’ve a shuttle to save, and there are people on the Enterprise and on whatever planet we are both falling into that need you- we are all counting on you- I’m _counting_ on you.”

“Bu’ Sir-“

“The needs of the many, Scotty- remember?”

_If we hit this planet, we could kill someone- something-_

Scotty stops. He looks down at the mangled mess in his hands, all the blue-green-red-yellow wires, the wires that are slipping from out of his reach as he feels himself pitch forward as they fall. The heat is rising in the shuttle- as time paces faster, Scotty can hear the brutal sound of the shuttle crumbling, breaking apart, and Scotty hears the sound of his own heart breaking-

The Captain _believes_ in him, and it’s something that Scotty does not take lightly; Scotty knows that the Captain’s trust is easily given- the kid leaves his life in the hands of others way too fucking easily- but it’s sustaining that trust, keeping that promise…

The alarms thrill louder, and the Captain’s breaths are becoming more and more laboured, his face dappling pale-pale white and deep, bloody red from the strain of the wires as they heat and blister his papered skin, and the ship is rocking from the diminishing power and-

Scotty grips the wires, and he stands. “The power chamber is righ’ behin’ you, Sir,” he says. “I can try ‘in get a communication line open between us an’ the Enterprise, bu’ I cannae-“

“Do what needs to be done, Scotty,” the Captain breathes, and as he says it the shuttle pitches Scotty back toward the cockpit, and pulls the Captain forward, and with eyes squeezed tight and a barely-heard grunt of pain, Scotty watches as the Captain’s face crumples white and purple as his body dangles- no, _hangs_ \- from the control chamber above him, his free arm reaching to try and grab something, to pull the weight off the shredded mess of his shoulder-

Scotty can’t reach him, he throws both arms up- he’s too goddamn far- he’s _too fucking short_ -

“Shit- Captain, jus’-“ his voice is hoarse-

“Scotty, forget about me! Just do something to stop us from crumbling into particles of fucking fire!”

The scream pulls Scotty to his senses, and he launches into action-

The shuttle tumbles back, and Scotty jumps, slamming his body into the control chamber, careful not to fall into the Captain’s body, careful not to jostle his weight- he digs his feet into the clip-spaces where the door to the chamber had been, pulls a screwdriver out of his boot, and pulls the Captain’s free arm up around his shoulders and ignores the weak strength of the Captain as he pulls on Scotty’s body weight.

He can feel the Captain’s short, intense breaths on his neck- reassurance, he’s sure- and the Captain is mumbling something about a name, and Scotty can’t hear it because he’s re-routing the power manually- or trying to, _goddamnit_ \- praying to some goddamn space God that he doesn’t believe in that he can pull enough energy from the auxiliary power station, just for ten seconds of communication, just enough to scream at Chekov to beam them both the _fuck_ out of here-

A spark flies past his face. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t give a shit. He pulls out a wire- green, stick to the right side, red for the main processor, and yellows and blues for the shuttle’s last reserves, the ones he shouldn’t be meddling with because half of them all have connectors lying right behind the Captain’s arm and could potentially electrocute them both-

Scotty stops.

The communications system is there, just under the Captain’s elbow- he has the yellow wire in his hand- shit-

He doesn’t have a choice.

“We hav’ to pull yer arm out Sir,” he says. “I don’ have much of a choice-“

The Captain doesn’t reply. Scotty chances a look over his shoulder-

The Captain’s face is deathly white, and as Scotty looks up his arm he sees the pools of blood drenching his shirt from his shoulder and a deep-black bruise strains his skin underneath the collar of his shirt.

He didn’t hear him- _fuck_ he didn’t hear the Captain-

Scotty’s anger pitches, and he growls, “Fuck the _needs_ o’ the goddamn many, mate-“

He doesn’t care about the shuttle, or about death. He starts untangling the Captain’s arm straightaway, pulling at whatever wires he can just to reach the thick red wire that has tightened itself so deeply into the space where the Captain’s shoulder meets his neck, and Scotty forces down the thought that it almost looks like as if the Captain, his Captain, is being strangled to death.

Clipping the red means no power for the shuttle, Scotty thinks. Clipping it might mean endgame.

Fuck it, he’s lived through worse.

Scotty wrenches at the wire, gripping his sweat-stricken fingers around it and tugging and pulling until finally, finally, it gives way and the Captain pitches down into Scotty’s waiting arms. The Captain’s arm dangles, useless, dead, under him, and Scotty hears a hitching breath, one single gasp for life.

 _“Imminent crash landing ETA five minutes-“_ the intercom crackles-

Power’s not gone, Scotty realises, and he breathes a deep sigh of relief.

“Sir-“ Scotty breathes. “I can try an’ send a signal to the Enterprise- we can try’n beam-“

“Do it,” the Captain breathes- “And it’s Jim, for Chrissakes, Scotty.”

Scotty pulls the Captain- no, _Jim_ \- down to the floor, bracing his hands against the Captain’s- no, _Jim’s_ \- arm, on the off-chance the shuttle swerves and pulls the Captain’s- _Jim’s_ \- body with it, but the Captain- _Jim_ \- is throwing his hands off, wincing as his shoulder jostles with the movement-

“Not a princess, Scotty-“ the Captain- Jim, _goddamnit_ \- says. “Just do it, would you?” His eyes blink open, dazed and dazzled with pain, and his unhurt arm braces against the wall behind him as they lurch .

Scotty turns and reaches for the connector, and he throws the yellow wire into the jack, and suddenly he starts firing words out at ninety miles a minute and he isn’t sure of what he’s saying, and he can hear something about two minutes- they’ve only got _two fucking minutes_ and-

“-dammnit, Spock, can ya bloody well hear me?-“

 _“-tty… hear yo- Whe-_ “ he hears over the comm, and he’s dazed and suddenly he’s babbling co-ordinates, and he knows Chekov will understand- Chekov _has to understand_ , goddamnit, because they’ve got less than a minute and a half, and-

The shuttle lurches back, and Scotty hears the distinct sound of glass cracking, and Scotty doesn’t hear Jim- _yes, Jim, his name is Jim_ \- slip and flounder back from the wall and drop down into the cockpit until he hears the alarms shrill louder and the words- _“… one minute-“_

_“.. n’t grasp your locati-“_

_“Sir-“_ Scotty thrills, his heart too fast for him to breathe and he’s panicking and he doesn’t want to fucking die, and he looks over his shoulder to find Jim gripping his fists into the seat as they swerve faster- faster-

“Spock,” Jim shouts, eyes opening wide, alert, face set in determination. Scotty can see the pain, but it hides like a dormant beast underneath the folds of his skin. Jim shouts, “Spock, can you hear me?”

 _“-yes-“_ the comm fizzles in return.

“Our co-ordinates are seven-five-eight-twenty-three-point-oh-one-hundred-South-South-East. Were over three hundred-fifty kilometres from Enterprise, and we’ve got less than thirty seconds- _start beaming us now_!”

Scotty blinks. Oh. He finds it again.

He sees it, sees that face, and knows. Here is his Captain, there’s the face that had won against all odds, the rock that held them all together, the rock that pushed against everything when everything pulled back-

_“ETA fifteen seconds-“_

Jim was not going down so easily, Jim wasn’t cracking under the pressure, even when the pressure was cracking Scotty into milli-fractions of glass and dust and wires that cannot be repaired.

Scotty remembers being doubted. Scotty remembers being told he was never, _ever_ good enough.

Scotty also remembers the day the Captain wanted him on his ship.

The glass is cracking behind the resolved face of Scotty’s Captain, and a glimmer of light shimmers around them, and Scotty breathes because this means that Chekov has locked onto them and they aren’t going to-

Jim cracks Scotty a grin, a supernova of a smile that threatens to tear his face apart, a grin that forces Scotty to forget- just for a half second, just for a brief, fleeting moment, about what it means to do everything, to try until the last moment, to promise a Captain’s promise that you will not under any circumstances let down your crew, you friends, your family-

“I’m sorry, Jim-“ he starts, because he really had started to doubt himself, doubt his Captain, doubt the power of their Enterprise, and just as the glass cracks a little more, and as Scotty’s heart races a little more, suddenly, there’s-

White.

Blissful, beautiful white encircles them and they aren’t on the shuttle anymore- they’re somewhere else- they’re landing, and Scotty feels his body slam against the ground, and he jumps, he looks up, and there, lying there, winded and too-pale even by Scotty’s standards, lies the Captain, Jim, who is breathing deep and dispelling the fear that Scotty knew lay hidden, unbidden, underneath his veins, his bones, his _heart_.

And in that moment, Scotty thinks that he will _never_ doubt his Captain, or even doubt himself, ever again.

“Sir-“ Scotty starts, but the Captain waves off his fear with another smile.

“We’re home,” the Captain says, and he chuckles. “We’re alive, thanks to you, Scotty.” He suddenly barks a laugh, and Scotty watches him as his head falls back on the ground. “We’re alive!” he shouts.

“But Sir- it wasn’-“ Scotty starts, turning around and keeping his arse firmly on the floor under them because- wires save him- he’d probably tumble with the weakness in his knees right now: goddamnit, _they’re both alive-_

“I’ve no idea what wires went where in the control chamber, Scotty- only _you_ could do that- and _you saved us both_ ,” the Captain interrupts, “And what did I say about my name?”

Scotty watches him a second longer, watches the wide grin and the maniac laughter, and then- Vulcans and all things inhuman- it is only then that he laughs, and, mighty hell, it’s the best laugh he’s had in years.

_They’re alive._

Scotty can hear McCoy’s bark as he runs down the hall toward them both-

“Jim, you are _never_ going on any routine missions ever again if I have something to say about it-“

Suddenly, Spock is extending a hand out to him, and Scotty looks over his shoulder as the Captain wobbles to a stand before he shakes his head and says, “Scotty saved the day, didn’t he? Doesn’t matter after that, does it?”

Scotty catches a glimpse of the garbled mess of the Captain’s shoulder, his neck and even the ripped shreds of his shirt, and suddenly, the blood loss goes to the Captain’s head, and his knees give out and he comes crashing to the floor, crashing into the waiting arms of a doctor screaming curses words the likes of which the Scottish man has never in his lifetime heard-

“Matters after that my arse, Jim,” Scotty grumbles, reaching out to give a disgruntled, overworked McCoy a hand. The injuries are not as severe as Scotty had thought, but the burns and the fractures in his Captain’s dislocated shoulder would take time.

But it is only afterward, once Jim is under induced sleep, that Scotty realises the truth.

The Captain _trusts_ him; the sleeping Captain trusts him _with his life._

He was once ignored; his family thrust him into the depths of space and didn’t care if he lived or not.

But the Captain.. the Captain- _Jim_ \- is family.

And that means even more to Scotty than he will ever, ever, say.

 


End file.
